


Day 21: DJD - Final Confrontation

by GemmaRose



Series: Lost Light Fest 2018 [21]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Anxiety, Difficult Decisions, Gen, Junior is about to have a rough couple weeks, Separation Anxiety, The Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye Issue 51 (IDW), Whirl is a Good Dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-14 07:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: Sometimes, a caretaker has to make decisions for their ward's safety regardless of their ward's feelings on the matter.





	Day 21: DJD - Final Confrontation

“If anyone wishes to leave, for whatever reason, please raise your hand.” Rodimus said, gesturing to the open teleport chamber. “Your hand or your paw.” he amended a nano-klik later. The room was still. Junior pressed closer to Whirl’s leg, and he stroked a claw down the back of her helm. “Then it’s settled.” Rodimus turned to shut the doors. “The doors close, and we’re staying.”

“Wait.”

Junior looked up when Whirl spoke, fingers curling in a seam on his thigh.

“Nightbeat, you said it had enough energy to get us all to an asteroid, right?”

“Yeah. What’s it matter?”

“How far could it send a single one of us?” Whirl asked, field wrapping around Junior full of determination and protectiveness and the same warm undercurrent of love she’d known her whole functioning.

“I-” Nightbeat paused, frowning. “I’m not sure. Quantum tech takes most of its energy to get going, so it’d depend on the mech’s frame size.”

“How far could it send a mini?” Whirl’s claw slid down from her helm to rest on her shoulder, pulling her tighter against his leg, and Junior looked up at her caretaker with wide optics. He couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he meant, could he?

“Far.” Brainstorm said, and when Junior looked over at her teacher he was thinking hard, probably doing maths in his head. “Scarvix at least, maybe Kadabra or Cathar if I can boost it.”

“You’re suggesting we send a messenger.” Rodimus said slowly, and Junior’s tanks squirmed uncomfortably at the way the Captain’s optics focused on her.

“One mini.” Whirl said as she ducked behind his leg, hiding her face against his plating. “She calls Cybertron from outside the DJD’s comms block and we all get to go home.”

“And what if Scarvix doesn’t have any long-distance comms she can use?”

“Then at least she won’t _die_.” Whirl spat, vocaliser crackling the way it did when he tried to layer his glyphs.

“I don’t wanna go.” Junior whimpered, gripping his leg tighter. She’d never been planetside without Whirl, rarely been _anywhere_ without one of the older mechs or femmes to watch out for her. “I wanna stay here with you!”

“Let’s put it to a vote.” Whirl said, claw heavy on the back of her shoulders. “All for sending Junior to get help?” he raised his other arm, and Junior’s spark sank as, one by one, everyone else in the room did too.

“It’s unanimous, then.” Rodimus said, and Junior whined as she pressed herself tighter to the back of her caretaker’s leg. It wasn’t unanimous at all! She didn’t want to go! She looked up at Whirl, saturating her field with desperation, but he still peeled her fingers from his plating.

“C’mere.” Rodimus said, and Junior’s rotor kicked to life as the captain tried to grab her.

“No!” she jerked away from him, trying to latch onto Whirl again, but he scooped her up and pinched the base of her rotor to stop it spinning.

“This is for your own good, bitlet.” he said softly, and Junior thrashed as he handed her off to Brainstorm.

“No!” she slammed a fist against her teacher’s plating and didn’t even leave a dent. “No, I don’t wanna go!”

“Look, bitty.” Rodimus started. Junior kicked out at him.

“No!” She wasn’t going, they couldn’t make her! She was supposed to be allowed to make her own decisions now and she wanted to stay!

“Look, you get to a long-distance comm center and you call Cybertron. Get these coordinates to whoever’s in charge.” Rodimus pressed a dataslug into her hand, and she almost threw it.

“Why can’t you send Tailgate?!” she cried, trying and failing to squirm free of Brainstorm’s grip.

“Because Tailgate can fight.” Whirl said, and Junior stilled as he stepped in close enough to run a claw down the side of her helm. “You can’t.”

“I could.” her vocaliser crackled. Whirl shook his helm.

“I’m not taking that chance.”

Brainstorm threw her then, without warning, and she yelped as she hit the back of the teleport chamber. The doors slid shut, and she scrambled to her feet as the walls began to glow around her. They weren’t sending her anywhere. She may not be good at hitting things like Tailgate, but she could fight just as well as Brainstorm could! With the same style, too. She reached into her subspace, the normal part anyone could see on a scanner, and pulled out her most recently tested gun. The first shot punched a hole in the chamber, and in any other situation she could’ve laughed at the shouting from the other side.

“Who gave her a _gun_?!” Rodimus shouted.

“You’re the one who said she could keep anything she built!” Brainstorm shouted back. Junior aimed for the other side of the doors, but before she could pull the trigger the walls flashed bright enough to overload her optics and she felt the sickeningly familiar sensation of a quantum jump. She reset her optics to clear them from the flash, then reset them twice more, but the scene before her didn’t change. If this was Scarvix, it wasn’t a part of it she’d been to with Whirl.

The buildings were dirty, the streets literally made of dirt, and her spark casing felt like it was shrinking as her optics skittered over the crowd. Dozens, hundreds of strangers both organic and mechanical passing by, ranging from shorter than her knees to almost Ultra Magnus’s size. A whine built in her vocaliser, and she ducked her helm to press her fists to her face. This was just a bad dream. Just a really, _really_ bad dream.

But as she staggered against a wall and sank to her knees, it all felt entirely too real.


End file.
